ȺpÎÞÂë

14 Minutes of Bravery

By: Maryline Jepkoech

Convoys of chase cars with blaring sirens cut across the school grounds in the wee hours of Saturday morning. Men with black matching suits and black shades are running after these cars, you would think Bruce Lee finally picked these grounds for one of his dramatic action movie scenes. The compound was flooded with a sea of excited and worried faces. Those at the front of the crowds looked frustrated as they pushed each other while still, the men in suits were shouting at them and using a lot of sign language- pointing directions, people, and at times lifting hands as if trying to beat them but there is no contact. You can barely hear what the men in black suits are saying. From a distance, they seem to be either conducting sad acapella songs for wars or rapping a fast song to a deaf audience.

Dust clouds are still present in the atmosphere due to the impacts of speeding convoys. Teachers are walking around classrooms, but no student is seen outside. Weirdly the teachers' faces are full of smiles. That's an odd thing to see, on normal days they frown, are irritated, and just angry. At times I think it’s a mantra and face card they were trained to do at Teachers Training College. 8th grade students inside my classroom are full of smiles. Ladies are tying, styling their hair, applying perfumes and lotions on their already glimmering faces. Men keep polishing their shoes and adjusting their ties. They are all doing these in very low tones to avoid invitations of ‘happy’ teachers, it never ends well. I am sitting at the front desk, the front row holding a white piece of paper full of writings, I have been walking around with this for days now.

A few minutes pass and the school principal is standing at the door. "Good morning class!! I hope you are ready; your manners today should be as earlier agreed!”, he shouted. We all answer in unison "Yes sir". "Maryline, can I see you in my office", he smiles as he points at me. Well, such words would often be a threat on a normal day to any student in my school- but not today, not to me. I had served as the school president for two years, a position that you are voted and vetted in grade seven. It was such a prestigious position due to the seriousness it took during the voting and approval. Students would vote, teachers would vet the top three students, and the school board would interview them in a three-hour rigorous process as they explained their manifesto. As if that was not enough, the school catholic priests would also do further interviews and final approval. I used to wonder why all this was necessary for a 14-year-old who would just coordinate student activities. If the country went through such a process, maybe the leaders would be better. Parliamentary houses are comedy scenes here.

I headed to his office, and he asked me whether my speech was ready and if all students were set to which I positively confirmed.

A few minutes after that, the atmosphere was full of loud music, ululations from proud parents, and crowds of close to four thousand people who had earlier flooded the grounds. More ululations rise as the Kenyan Deputy President William Ruto, members of parliament, governors, senators, women representatives, and their friends alight from the black parked convoy of cars with tinted windows. The men in black are looking around as if something got lost in the crowds and others are walking behind the national and county government leaders. They stood at the entrance of the school's biggest hall where the event would be held.

As we matched and danced from our classroom, everyone’s attention was on us. Matching as the first student in the queue, I get a clear glimpse of my family in the crowd, my elder sister Joy and my cousins are screaming my name joyfully. The camera flashlights are all over my face. I get a clear view of my parents, grandparents, and my aunties. My eyes were sweating, I would want to blame all the camera flashlights but no, I was emotional. This was a long-awaited day everywhere in the country, the 8th grade Prayer Day just before the national exams.

We had worn pink ribbons across our shoulders written “Congratulations”. I had one extra written "school president." Why everyone celebrates this event with gifts, flowers, and a big party is still a mystery to me, since what are we being congratulated about when the national hardest tensed exams are yet to be done in a week. We should be in class studying but no, this is tradition, and it has to happen. I would be lying to say I was not excited. I mean, a whole deputy president is in my school, and this rarely happens. It only happens for such big private schools in the country, and this was going to be broadcast on national television. So, it was a privilege. We all matched colorfully to the hall as poems, presentations, and uncountable speeches from government leaders were made.

As the school principal gave his speech, he seemed unsettled, shaking, and sweating. It is either the temperatures among four thousand people were very high, or he just had a stage fright. "Now, before our deputy president gives his speech, we have to hear from the school president", the event MC commented as the crowd stood clapping and ululating. From the voices, I could tell most ululations were from my family members. It was my time to give my speech, before 4000 humans, before the Kenyan deputy president who is the current sitting president. It was time to represent the school, it was time to either advertise my big school or embarrass my colleagues and teachers. It was time to truthfully speak to the nation.

I walked to the stage with my white paper as the Mc kept mentioning my national academic achievements, sports awards, and debate awards. Safe to say, I felt some pride with a little tension as I walked to that stage. Immediately I held the microphone, all tension faded, and the silence became way louder. My speech was not like any other they have heard. No one knew what was coming, except for me-the writer. After greetings, I started by calling out the illegal mistreatments from the school administration, misuse of governmental book funds and the struggles of studying without enough resources. My teachers whose faces were filled with mixed reactions were not spared. I spoke about their illegal extreme punishments that could be described as more of assault and battery than mere punishments. These punishments in the name of discipline had got some students hospitalized and others in therapy for having suicidal thoughts. What the teachers termed as ‘rich students’ drama’.

I explained the extreme impacts of emotional abuse that had not only impacted students' self-esteem, academic performances and general learning attitude in class. Learning with threats and constant punishments was becoming unbearable. School nurses who kept recommending one specific tablet to all student conditions weren’t left out. They had caused many health conditions to many and the administration kept protecting them. Harassing students who had not completed school fees was heavily emphasized in my speech. I wanted parents to understand what their children went through in the ‘big’ school. I was immersed in the bitterness of all that I had seen within my eight years of studies.

I am not sure whether at any point I thought of how this was going to be broadcasted, how the deputy president was part of the audience, and how this may leave many jobless. I was doing the forbidden. Society does allow this. Young kids should not call out to their elders in public, that is disrespectful. Who does that? All in front of the nation’s leader? All on TV? Who does she think she is? I believe these questions silently lingered in the minds of the crowd each second I moved from one sentence to another. The truth had to be told. What more would they do to a 14-year-old with one week remaining to graduate? At this point, the silence was way too loud. I kept reading the last part of my speech which was full of sarcasm, humor, seasoned lame compliments to my teachers, genuine appreciation to family, government, and the institution in general on how they had “shaped” and “hardened” us for the 8 years.

It had been 14 minutes before my last paragraph, crowds stood clapping, tears rolled down my father’s face and the deputy president walked to the stage to give me a tight hug. Other governmental leaders came too hugging and greeting me with money that was now too much for my tiny pockets. Oddly the teachers, catholic priests, and school board members in teary eyes and bright glowing faces walked up the stage as they all hugged me. “What just happened? I thought I called them out?” I was shocked, not knowing whether to feel proud or distressed.

From that day I have held more microphones than pens, have walked to most leadership offices, invited to conferences, won high school debate trophies, planted trees with senators, walked into a prestigious national high school, walked into a prestigious international university, walked into Law degree class, won sports awards, academic scholarships, USA student Visa and walked into ȺpÎÞÂë. That speech opened my eyes and lifted my self-belief, confidence, self-love, determination, and my I can do it spirit. That speech turned just a 14-year-old young girl into an Iron Woman.